Happily Forever After
by Rumpelstiltskin und Vladimir
Summary: In which the very old doctor tells his son a story as a prelude to a nap. (Set in Abe's childhood.) -a Rumpy only story-


**V: Sorry guys, not Tremors, (and yes, we will be updating ID - and I DT - eventually, but I have Life getting in the way, so be patient with us).Rumpy has fallen in love with a new show. Me, I ain't seen it, but it sounds interesting. Anywho, she thought this up the other night, wrote it up, and we've decided to stick up on here on our shared account. **

**R: ****My first written Forever fic, though I have multiple others bouncing around in my head. This one is, by far, the cutest however. I'll be writing more, seeing as this show is one of the best I've ever seen and I'm in love with Henry (and his relationship with Abraham). Enjoy!  
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***DISCLAIMER* RV makes no claim to own Forever or its characters. They are the property of Mathew Miller and ABC. No profit is made from this writing.**

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><p>Dr. Henry Morgan was sitting up in his bed, leaning against the backboard and engrossed in a particularly gripping novel, when he felt a small body flop across his outstretched legs. "Hello, Abe," the doctor said distractedly without looking up.<p>

"Hi, Dad," the boy, about seven years old, said without moving.

"May I ask why you are here?" Henry questioned politely, flipping a page. Abe responded, but his voice came out garbled, and his father glanced at him over the top of his book to see his face buried in the blanket. "Use your words, Abraham," Henry advised, though not to earnestly. "Mumbling denotes a lack of confidence."

Abe shifted. "Mom said I was being crabby and that I needed a nap," he repeated, "but I said I'm too old for naps now."

Henry peeked over his book again. "I see," he said, as if urging him to continue.

"So she said I'm not and it wasn't an option and I had to."

"And yet you ended up splayed across my legs like a lap cat, instead of in your own bed?" Dr. Morgan asked, lowering his book to raise a questioning eyebrow at the small boy.

Abe finally scrambled up the rest of the way onto the bed to sit next to his father's legs. "I thought if I had to take a nap I could take one with you. I like taking naps with you."

Henry let out a slight groan, sending a glance down to the book he was torn from. "Abraham-" he started to say, looking back up at his son.

Abe gave him a look the doctor was all-too-familiar with, a big-eyed silent plea of "pleeeeeease". Sighing, Henry closed the book with a definite smack. "This is emotional black-mail, you know that?" he said to Abe, who giggled as he climbed up to lay next to his father. Henry shifted to lay back against the pillows himself, wrapping an arm around the boy's shoulders to pull him closer. "Comfy?" he questioned, receiving a quick nod in return.

"And tell me a story?" Abe added sweetly.

Henry rolled his eyes and ruffled the boy's curly dark hair. "Fine, fine. But the one is all. If you ask for more I'll kick you right out of this room," he warned with a teasing quality to his voice.

"Just one," Abe said, "I promise."

"Hm, okay," Henry started thoughtfully. "Where to begin. Ah yes. Some years ago there was a very very old man-"

"How old are you, Dad?" Abe interrupted and he snuggled down into the crook of his father's arm.

Henry offered him a slightly scolding look before answering. "I'm about one hundred and fifty years old, Abe. Please, you mustn't interrupt if you want to hear the story." Abe nodded up at him, making a point of pursing his lips shut. "Anyway, this very old man was serving for his country in a terrible war. While he did not like war, he felt it necessary to use his skills as a doctor to help the people it hurt. Because he was very old, this man had seen other wars and could tell this one would soon be over when he came upon a lovely nurse holding a baby. He was there to help people who had been rescued from a dangerous place called a concentration camp, and the woman said the baby had been found there."

"Was the baby okay?" Abe questioned when Henry paused with a far-off look.

Henry looked down at him, offering a small smile when he saw his son's slightly worried expression. "He was fine. But the nurse and the old man couldn't find the child's parents, and all they knew was the baby's name and that he was a prisoner in the camps, because of the numbers tattooed onto his arm."

Abraham quickly glanced down at the purposeful blueish-green numbers stretched out across his own arm, rubbing his hand up and down the marked skin.

"So, the old doctor and the beautiful nurse took care of the baby, and in doing so, started to fall in love with each other," Henry continued, rubbing the top of Abe's head comfortingly, falling into a rhythm. "And they started to love the baby, too. Instead of putting him somewhere where he might find other parents, they became a family. The doctor married the nurse, who was the most wonderful woman he had ever met, and they became the child's mother and father, who was the best son any parents could ever hope to have." He kissed the top of the now-droopy-eyed Abe's head, himself feeling as if a nap was not such a bad idea.

"Daddy, did they live," his question was interrupted midway by a yawn, "happily ever after, like in the fairy tales?"

"Well," Henry had to pause as he too yawned, "not exactly, because you'll find when you're older that very few things actually end. But they are definitely happy," His voice tapered off into a whisper as he noticed Abe's eyes closing, "and hopefully they will be like that for a long time."

His own eyes feeling heavy, the very, very old doctor rested his head back and hugged the baby closer, quickly drifting off into dreams of the past.


End file.
